Elphaba the Girl
by TheGreenGirl
Summary: I hadn't seen many or really any of these before, so I decided to try it: Elphaba's childhood in Quadling Country. It was a defining part of her character, and yet we never read more than a few pages of it. So I decided to elaborate.
1. Chapter 1

The green girl sat hunched in the corner of the hut, away from the dripping eaves and puddles of swampy wet in the center of the room. Her head was bent between her knees, long, damp black hair falling in ratty curtains around her face, her dirt-stained red dress hiked up her thighs to reveal long, slender emerald legs.

Elphaba looked slowly up, brushing her hair back from her eyes. Nessarose sat slumped against the mud-brick wall, her eyes closed, snot dribbling from her nose and onto the frayed collar of her dress. Her chin sagged against her chest, her thin body swaying without the balance of arms. She was nine, but with the body of a six-year-old, her skin pale as a fishbelly, her unused legs like wan sticks.

Elphaba stood and found her calfskin boots next to her, sliding her bare feet into them and wincing; their last trek through Quadling Country had left her heels callused and her toes blistered. She propped Nessarose's frail figure against a stump and then went to squat by their fire pit, warming her fingers over the embers. Shell and Nanny were gone, but that was to be expected: Nanny was always hunting for something they could eat, and Shell loved to splash behind her and chase after dragonflies and mosquitoes darting on the surface of the water.

When her hands were warm, Elphaba sloshed across the floor to the other corner, where beneath a blanket Papa kept his valuables dry. She cast a glance at Nessa, to make sure she was asleep and upright, and then ducked under the blanket herself. She rummaged in Papa's gilded wooden trunk until her fingers closed on the familiar leathery spine of a book and, in the watery light that came through the threadbare cloth, she read. There were only twelve books in Papa's chest, and Elphaba had read them all, again and again. She no longer cared what the title was, or even what they were about—all tomes of moral philosophy, religion, and the Unnamed God, none of which she cared for—but the words were fascinating. Elphaba settled happily against the back of the trunk and tucked her feet underneath her, losing herself in a world of words far away from the marshes of Quadling Country.

"Elphaba!" Nessarose called an hour later, stirring from her nap. "Elphie, where are you?"

The green girl poked her head out from under the blanket. "I'm here, Nessa," she said, closing her book and slipping it back into the trunk.

"Where's Nanny?" Nessarose asked, quietly. She struggled to sit straight, but lost her balance and fell to her side, slippered feet flailing. Elphaba scuttled out and propped her sister up again, looking flushed and guilty.

"I'm sorry, Nessa," she apologized, wiping dirt from the girl's dress. "Just ask if you want to sit up. Do you want something to eat?" She found an apple in amongst the roots and remedies in Nanny's trunk, and fed it in pieces to Nessarose, with the tenderness of a mother to her newborn child.

"Papa's prayer meetings will finish tonight. Nanny says he'll come home as soon as he can," Nessarose said, eagerly, turning her head away from a piece of shriveled fruit in Elphaba's hand.

"_Home_?" Elphaba scoffed, eating the apple herself. "_This _is home, Nessa?"

"Oh, Elphie, you know Papa will find us something better. This is only for a little while," Nessarose said. "This is better than in the Ovvels. At least there's a bed."

There _was_ a bed, Elphaba admitted to herself, but she had never slept in it. Nessarose and Nanny shared it when Papa wasn't home, while she and Shell slept in blankets on the floor. This hovel was no worse than those they'd had in the past, but it was certainly no better—holes in the dripping and ancient thatch, mud walls and floor, devoid of real furniture and miles away from civilization. There was a low table in the corner—more of a bench—stacked with plates and cups and a mound of prayer beads Shell liked to play with when Papa was away. The narrow bed was pushed up against the wall, its sagging frame draped with a single brown blanket.

"At least there's a bed," Elphaba echoed finally, bowing her head under her sister's expectant gaze.

"Let's go outside, Elphie. Can you take me outside?" Nessarose asked.

Elphaba cast a longing glance at Papa's book chest, but turned away quickly. "Of course," she said soberly.

Elphaba unfolded herself and stood, tugging at the hem of her smock. It was too short and tight around the budding roundness of her chest, and her long, green legs stuck from it like awkward sticks; Nanny had made it for her a year ago out of one of Melena's old, glamorous frocks.


	2. Chapter 2

"Your dress is too short," Nessarose said. "You should ask for a new one, Papa would get it for you."

"No," said Elphaba frankly, "Papa would get it for _you_." She pulled at her dress again and helped Nessa to stand, putting her long green fingers on the small of her sister's back to offer much-needed support. With Elphaba's help Nessarose walked into the watery daylight of Quadling Country and sat daintily on a bench outside their hut.

Elphaba sat down beside her sister, swatting away mosquitoes and gnats for the both of them and looking irritated. The air outside was dead and thick; the water in muddy pools still and stagnant, with a thin layer of green scum; the sky laden with heavy clouds. Elphaba squinted around at her dreary surroundings and sighed.

"I like it here," said Nessarose after a while. "It's almost pretty, don't you think? The trees. And the natives are very nice, once they accept the Unnamed God into their hearts."

Elphaba stared ferociously out at the gray sky. "I hate it," she said softly.

"Oh, Elphie, you always say that. You hate everything." Nessa was frustrated; she squirmed to sit up straight and bit her lip tightly. "Papa would hate to hear you talk like that."

"Papa isn't here!" Elphaba barked sharply, and then her voice softened when Nessarose's face melted into a squinty, almost tearful pout. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you like it. I should too. Nessa, _please_." Elphaba shook her thin black hair away from her face and looking pleadingly at Nessarose.

But Nessa wasn't looking at Elphaba any longer. She stared into the murky, muggy forest beyond, her eyes wide, an expression of terror on her face. "Elphie…" she said, softly, hoarsely.

Elphaba looked automatically to where Nessa was staring—where the small girl would have been pointing, had she any arms. There was a rustling in the muddy undergrowth. In a moment, the rose-colored head of a Quadling poked through the brush, its face streaked in mud, hair falling in greasy hanks down its back. _His _back, Elphaba corrected herself—it was a thin man dressed in sparse, oily gray loincloth and shirt. _Papa hasn't got to him, yet_, Elphaba thought, searching his rosy skin for a tattoo of conversion and finding nothing. _What's he doing here?_

"Elphaba…" Nessarose whined softly. "Papa's not here. What are you going to do?"

Elphaba watched the Quadling struggle out from the forest into their clearing, splashing through puddles and tripping over stones. "Why are you still scared of them, Nessa, after all this time?" she asked.

"_There's no tattoo_," Nessarose whispered, as if this explained everything. "He's a heathen, Elphie. He's dangerous."

Elphaba stood and stalked to where the Quadling was squatting on his haunches, breathing heavily, staring at the two girls outside their hut. "What do you want?" she asked, bravely, staring the native man in his muddy brown eyes.

The Quadling shrunk back away from the green girl and made a noise in the pocket of his throat before speaking. "I to be looking for the man who calls himself minister," he said. The man craned his neck to look behind Elphaba at Nessarose's thin, armless figure, slumped again against the wall and watching them with wide eyes.

"He's not here," Elphaba said. "What are you called? I can tell him you came."

The Quadling watched Ephaba with his head cocked curiously to one side. "They to call me River Son," said the Quadling softly, his accent thick and distinctive. "And they to call you the green girl. Your skin is to be like the grass of the new season."

"Do you want something?" Elphaba asked, not at all fazed. "We don't have any food, any more than you do." She pulled at the hem of her dress again—it was becoming a nervous habit—and itched the back of her leg with the sole of her calfskin boot.

"I to have food, little girl. It is to be a question, a question I am wanting to be asking. To the man who is to call himself minister." _Papa will be pleased_, Elphaba thought bitterly. _He will be a convertite soon, terrified of burning in the afterlife, longing for the comfort of immortality in the hand of the Unnamed God. _

"Come back tomorrow," Elphaba said, and turned away from River Son. "Come back tomorrow, and he'll answer your question."

The Quadling slunk back into the bushes, thanking her in his thick, awkward way, and Elphaba watched him go. Then she turned to Nessarose. "Are you all right?"

She bent before her sister and pushed stringy brown hair from Nessarose's face. The small girl's eyes were the size of saucers, full of a kind of horrified awe. "Are _you _all right? Oh, Elphie, I was _so _scared for you, I thought he might kidnap you."

"He's just a Quadling," said Elphaba reassuringly. "Don't be afraid of a Quadling, they can barely stand up straight."

"He didn't have a tattoo, Elphie, he's a heathen," said Nessarose knowingly. "He doesn't know the way of the Unnamed God, he hasn't—"

"Nessa, please. You know I don't…" Elphaba trailed off. "Look, Nanny and Shell are home." She squinted into the forest, where old, white-haired Nanny was picking her way through the underbrush, holding a rucksack full of greens and fruits and with Shell trailing in her wake.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm going to go help Nanny."

"Elphie!" Shell crowed as Elphaba approached them through the bushes. "Elphie, see what I've got!" He held out a small, grubby fist, grinning wildly. His hair, from hours outside in the muggy heat, had grown damp; it stuck to his scalp in dark, wet curls, and his forehead shone with sweat and dirt.

"What is it?" Elphaba asked, tiredly, long past the point where she feigned interest in her brother's discoveries.

Shell slowly opened his pudgy fingers to reveal a tiny toad, trembling, terrified, on his palm. He had held it so tightly that one of its legs was splayed to the side, broken or dislodged, and Elphaba felt a pang of pity for the miserable, frightened creature. "Shell, you hurt it," she said, stiffly, and flicked the animal from the little boy's palm with her long green fingers. It landed in the mud and scrambled away, its fourth leg dragging behind like a crutch.

"Elphie!" Shell shrieked, falling to the ground and flailing his arms in an attempt to recapture his prize. Despite its broken leg, the toad managed to escape, and when it had disappeared from view Shell began to cry, raking his little fingers through the mud and sobbing into his dirty tunic. "_Elphie_," he moaned, "_Elphie_, I caught it for _you._"

"Now look what you've done," croaked Nanny, handing Elphaba her heavy rucksack and hobbling towards the clearing. "You had better fix it, Elphaba, don't leave him crying there like that."

Elphaba watched her brother critically for a moment—knowing _she _had never cried as a toddler—before swinging Shell up onto her hip. "It was a nice toad," Elphaba offered awkwardly. "Come on, let's get something to eat. Tonight you and Nessa and I will go toad hunting. We'll find a really big one."

Shell stopped his crying and wiped dirt and tears from his eyes. "A _really _big one?"

Elphaba nodded in mock sincerity and began to pick her way back to the hut, the rucksack slung over one shoulder and Shell clinging excitedly to her other. "A really big one," she echoed, hoping Shell would forget about the toad by nightfall.

When Shell was inside, busy stacking Papa's beads in the mud, Elphaba brought Nessarose into the hut and sat her down on the bed. "Nanny and I will make dinner soon, all right? You aren't too hungry?"

Nessarose shook her head sulkily.

"Elphaba, darling, there's fish and fruit and roots in that bag over there. Why don't you start making them now, while your Nanny sleeps a little." Nanny gestured to the cloth under which Elphaba had set Nanny's sack and farted, loudly and shamelessly. "Nessarose, move over and let your Nanny lie down," she croaked.

Elphaba tied Shell to a post by the door, to keep him from running into the woods, and Nessarose sat on the floor in the corner, watching raptly as her sister worked. Nanny nodded off quickly, snorting and coughing in her sleep.

Elphaba began by sorting the ingredients in Nanny's sack. There were four minnows tied in a piece of dirty oilcloth, a bundle of bitter leaves, dirt-encrusted roots and an assortment of shrunken vegetables—beets, carrots, and potatoes, the biggest of which was the size of Elphaba's closed fist.

Elphaba gnawed on the corner of one of the leaves and spat it out in distaste, her face wrinkled unpleasantly. "What are these?"

"Leaves," Nessarose said placidly. "Nanny hangs them." She nodded towards the ceiling, where assortments of shriveled, dried leaves were swinging from the rafters.

Elphaba shrugged and shoved the bitter greens back into the bag. "I'll mash these and add the fish. That's what Mama used to do."

She squatted in front of the fire pit and stoked the dying embers with a stick before beginning work. She boiled the roots in their biggest pot and mashed them, then divided what had become a sinewy gray pulp into four bowls, each with their own sad little minnow and tiny potato.

"Is that it?" Nessarose asked distastefully when Elphaba brought a bowl to her. "Aren't we going to pray?"

Elphaba shrugged. "You go ahead, Nanny's asleep."

"And Shell too, get Shell," Nessa said, eagerly. "He has to learn before Papa comes home, he can't even say a prayer properly."

Reluctantly, Elphaba untied Shell and brought him to sit before saintly Nessarose, and stuffed a potato in his mouth to keep him from whining. They sat, heads bowed, Shell chewing vigorously, while Nessarose recited a passage from a book of devotions she had memorized. She seemed almost in a trance: her pale eyelids were shut, softly, her lips barely moving, her spine erect.

"Here Nessa, you eat first," Elphaba said when Nessarose finished her prayer. "I'm not hungry, not really." It was a lie—she hadn't eaten except for those few pieces of apple in the afternoon, and her stomach was painfully empty—but Nessarose always ate first.

Nessa looked skeptically at the dish Elphaba held in her hands, her pretty nose

wrinkled. "I don't think I'll like that, Elphie. I like what Nanny makes."

"Can't you just eat it? Nanny's old, Nessa, she can't cook every night."

Nessarose sighed animatedly and opened her thin, pretty lips, allowing Elphaba to feed her. She stuck out her tongue after the first bite and refused to swallow until Elphaba promised her a candy from Papa's trunk if she finished the bowl. This, Elphaba had learned, was the way with Nessarose—she got what she wanted, always, she must always be happy.

"Come on, Nessa, open your mouth. There." Elphaba filled the wooden spoon and pushed it between a pouting Nessarose's lips. "See, not so bad. The second bite's never as bad."

"It's worse," Nessarose complained, but she accepted the next bite with little protest.

When her sister's bowl was empty, Elphaba gave Nessarose a caramel to suck on while she ate her own dinner. There was less in her bowl than there had been in Nessarose's—she and Nanny usually split a portion—but it was enough to satiate her stomach for the time being. Elphaba licked her bowl clean and stacked it next to Nessa's on their low dish table.

"Elphie, Nessa got a candy," Shell whined. His face was smeared with most of the mashed roots, and although the potato had been consumed the minnow remained at the bottom of his bowl.

"Eat the fish," Elphaba snapped.

Shell pouted up at his stern green sister, his eyebrows furrowed. "I don't _want _it, Elphie, I want a candy. I want a caramel like Nessa got."

Elphaba's face tightened. There was only one caramel left in Papa's box and she had been saving it for herself, for when she could get away from Nessarose and Shell and Nanny and eat it in peace.

"Fine," Elphaba said. She stalked to Papa's trunk, found the candy box, and pressed the last caramel into Shell's grubby fist.

"Nessa's was bigger," Shell said, taking the golden candy sulkily from Elphaba's hand. "Nessa always gets the bigger candies." He kept his open palm in the air, begging her silently for another, his wide brown eyes fixed on Elphaba's.

Elphaba slapped Shell's hand away from her, beady black eyes shining. "And I get nothing, ever. Go away." She turned her pointed nose away from the little boy standing before her and bit her lip, not wanting to look him in the eye.


End file.
